Circle Life
by volta arovet
Summary: In the future of Trigun, the past tries to repeat itself in a new and dangerous way. Reincarnation, romance, genocide, and, of course, donuts.
1. Sound of Life

**Circle Life**

_by volta arovet_

Spoilers for the entire series involved. They're not all obvious in the beginning, but I suggest you watch the entire series before reading this story.

This story takes place approximately 100 years after the end of Trigun. I say that in the story more than once, but please understand this fact. It's slightly important.

I'm trying something new and putting the author's notes at the end of the chapters. Feel free to read or ignore them as you wish.

Trigun and its characters are owned by Yashuhiro Nightow, Young King Comics, Pioneer Animation. But you already knew that.

**Circle Life**

_by volta arovet_

part zero: Sounds of Life

There's an inauspicious desert planet, circling a double sun somewhere on the far edge of the universe. Barren, foreboding, inhospitable, yet two sentient species manage to survive on its surface—not only survive, but thrive. The fates of these two species are intertwined, brought together by the strange men who walk between them—plants with human faces? Humans with plants' abilities? Twice already they have altered the path of mankind's destiny.

Once, two hundred years ago, when the last seeds of humanity landed on the planet.

Once, one hundred years ago, when the eradication of the human race was both planned and averted.

And now, the time has come for these both-and-neithers to play another role in the future of the humans and the plants.

The cast must be reassembled once again. The sounds of life permeate the air.

At this very instant, somewhere…

__

A man in a blue coat jokes with an old woman selling donuts

A dark-haired father promises his eldest daughter to take her on a walk

A young mother kindly soothes her smallest child, placing a Band-Aid on his knee

A delicate yet strong woman hums an ancient tune as she prepares dinner for herself

A plant carrying an unusual gift converses with his companion many iles away

Two infants sleep contentedly, awaiting their first sounds

A lonely man tries to remember what his direction in life is, comforted only by the strangely melodic sounds his sensitive ears can capture

A golden-eyed boy sobs himself to sleep

Things go in circles. People are reborn. Events are replayed. The only way to end this cycle of life is to end life itself. And now, they cannot allow that to happen.


	2. Little Plant

**Circle Life**

_by volta arovet_

_part one: **Little Plant**_

The residents of Newsky City would be quick to inform you that the second syllable of their proud city's name is pronounced "sky" as in the great blue expanse above, not "ski" as in the snow sport, thank you very much. Of course, the residents of Newsky City don't exactly know what snow was—it would take at least another hundred years before they could properly control the desert planet's climate. Still, the residents of Newsky City were very emotionally invested in the pronunciation of their name—as a visitor, the proper pronunciation would get you the best hospitality they had to offer, but the wrong pronunciation would get you nothing but stale donuts.

The blue coat-clad plant engineer had never mispronounced the city's name, he would be happy to inform you. He would be surprised if he ever mispronounced it—after all, he had been visiting this group of people back when the city's name was simply "Sky City" and it had inhabited a slightly higher location.

Right now, the spiky-haired engineer was concentrating on the control panel in front of him, nodding amiably at his stressed companion's comments. "As you can see, all of the controls are in perfect working condition, as far as we can tell. We've checked them twice and can't find any problems—"

"They seem to be fine," the engineer agreed.

"—so we think that the problem might be with the plant itself. We haven't had any problems today, but yesterday there was a strange series of bursts of energy we can't explain. I don't know if it's safe to run energy from the plant. I'm so worried, I don't know what we'd do if you hadn't stopped by, Mr. Engineer."

The engineer held up a gloved hand. "Please, call me Vash," he said, smiling widely.

The worker returned his smile nervously, passing a hand through his untidy brown hair. "Vash, then. Do you think you can help us?"

Vash paused dramatically, the modestly said, "I'll do what I can."

He hefted his Important Bag of Secret Repair Equipment and headed toward the room where the plant was encased. The young worker hurried after him. "Do you mind if I watch? I've never seen someone do maintenance on the actual plant."

As Vash reached the doorway to the inner chamber, he spun about and struck a serious pose. A gust of wind blew about the tails of his long blue coat in a very dramatic fashion—curious, since he was indoors in an area of the world where sudden gusts of wind were uncommon.

"Do not follow me," his voice echoed around the cavernous hallway. "The work I do is very delicate, and the slightest misstep could cause an overload, resulting in my death, and possibly the destruction of both the plant and half the city." He turned his head away so it was half covered in shadows. "My job is a perilous one, and I would not wish it on anyone. Do not risk your life by entering with me. If I do not return within an hour…wait longer." With that, he swept into the plant's room, leaving the bewildered worker behind.

As soon as he was out of sight, Vash leaned against the wall and sighed, "Yaaaah…that was so dramatic. I only wish some beautiful woman was there to hear my speech."

Lamenting over, Vash turned his attention to the plant. Hands spread out openly, forehead pressed against the protective glass, Vash closed his eyes and…he could only describe it as _reaching_. A familiar presence brushed against Vash's mind as he felt something come into his _reach_. He opened his eyes to see the wonderful, delicate creature greeting him. He smiled warmly.

"Hello, pretty girl. How are you feeling?" he asked tenderly. He felt a positive response come from the plant.

"Really? I heard that you had some troubles yesterday." The plant was confused. "A series of random energy bursts?" Vash prompted.

The plant did the equivalent of giggling and gave an explanation. Vash's smile returned as he stepped away from the plant. "That's a relief." He sat down next to the wall, opened up his Important Bag of Secret Repair Equipment, and removed a box of donuts and a beer.

"How have things been? Are they treating you well?" Yes, they were; she was very happy. "Is there anything you'd like?" Him to visit more often, of course! The soft petals of her 'legs' fluttered teasingly at him.

"I'm sorry, I've been busy!" he said defensively before biting into a donut. "Ooh! Heavenly. I've always said that Newsky made the best donuts." He closed his eyes and sank into Bliss Mode for a moment. "It's a pity you don't eat," he informed the plant.

The plant eyed his beer and smiled winningly. Plants may not be able to eat, but they were able to absorb liquids. "Oh no you don't. You're only 80 years old, little one, and I'm not going to give alcohol to a baby." She pouted cutely at him. "No means no." She sulked for a moment.

"I saw your mother last week," Vash said brightly, changing the topic. "She's doing just fine, but she wishes you'd contact her more often. She worries about you."

The plant did the equivalent of rolling her eyes. "I know you can take of yourself," Vash said patiently, "but we can't help worrying about our youngest plant."

The plant grinned wickedly and dropped a bombshell of a hint. Vash's eyes widened and he dropped the remaining half of a donut. "What? You 'won't be the youngest for long…' There's going to be a new plant?" Vash's smile broadened. "Who's the mother going to be?" The plant smiled coyly but refused to respond. "C'mon, tell me. Pleeeease?" She shook her head, 'giggling' again.

No matter how much he tried to wheedle and plead, she refused to give him any more information. Finally, Vash slumped his shoulders in defeat. "Mou, you're a stubborn lady. I guess I'll have to find out for myself. Maybe the next one I visit will be more talkative about it."

The plant posed a question to him, and Vash paused for a moment before regretfully answering, "No, I haven't visited Knives recently. It's been about eight months, actually. I was planning on heading towards New July next. Why, have you been communicating with him?"

The plant nodded enthusiastically. "Good, I'm glad that you're still friends. I know I've told you this before, but," he paused and looked into the plant's perfect, smooth eyes, "thank you. For helping him, for making him understand. You can't know how much I…just…thank you." The plant blushed and bobbed her head modestly.

Vash swiftly repacked his Important Bag of Secret Repair Equipment and headed toward the door. "I need to get going. I have a very nervous person waiting for me to reassure him that you're all right."

The plant 'hmphed' and looked at him pointedly.

"Ohhh, riiight, I almost forgot. You want your song. Let me think, what's a new one?" He cleared his throat, opened his mouth as wide as it could go, and belted out,

_"Ohhhhh!_

_"I'm a little hunk of tin,_

_"Nobody knows where I have been._

_"I've got four wheels and a running board,_

_"I'm a four-by-four-by-four!"_

Vash took a deep bow, the tips of his pointy hair just barely brushing against the ground. The plant 'giggled' appreciatively and thanked him.

"There, you have another one for your collection," he informed the plant. "Now I really have to go. Goodbye, pretty girl."

The plant enthusiastically waved her hand after him before floating back to disappear into the depths of her globe.

Vash emerged to meet the worker, who was currently wringing his hands with worry. His eyes met Vash's, which held an unreadable expression.

"Well?" the worker prompted.

"Everything is under control. The problem probably won't happen again, but if it does, you don't need to worry because it's not dangerous at all." Vash struck a proud pose to accent his job well done. The dramatic effect of the pose was decreased drastically when the worker flung his arms around him, crying.

"I was so worried!" he sobbed.

Vash awkwardly patted him on the back. "There, there. It's okay, um, what was your first name?"

"Bob," the worker squeaked out.

"It's okay, Bob," Vash finished lamely.

Bob finally released Vash, drying his eyes with the sleeves of his jacket.

"I'm sorry about that, it's just that I've only been in charge for about a month, and then my second in command and third in command called in sick yesterday and today, and then we had problems with the plant, and then I just didn't know what I'd do if anything went permanently wrong with the plant!" Bob exclaimed in one breath.

"Everything's all right," Vash reassured him again. Bob got himself under control.

"Do you mind if I ask what went wrong with the plant yesterday?" Bob asked shyly, brushing his matted brown hair out of his eyes.

"There's a highly scientific explanation for what happened, so I don't know if you'll understand, but here goes nothing," Vash said seriously. "She had the hiccups."

Bob blinked once. He blinked again. He straightened his glasses, scratched his head, and blinked his pale brown eyes a third time. "…what?"

Vash slapped him on the back and led him down the hallway. "Never mind. Do you want to get a beer?"

Bob shrugged. "Sure." After all, he supposed it was time for a celebration. The two sauntered out of the power plant, Vash talking a mile a minute about this lovely bar he had passed on the way to the plant and how wonderful it would be to see all the beautiful women there. Bob interjected the occasional word or phrase, but allowed Vash to do the leading in the conversation.

Finally, when they were on the street, Bob cleared his throat and said, "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Shoot," Vash said, and pointed his hand at Bob, his fingers shaped into the symbol for a gun. At that moment, he noticed a pair of pretty women walking in the other direction. He pointed his finger at one of them and whispered, "Bang" in a sultry voice, all the while smiling invitingly at them. The women giggled to each other but kept on walking.

"What generation of 'Vash' are you?" Bob asked. Vash's attention was brought back to the conversation, and he was rather confused. He looked at Bob quizzically. "It's for a stupid bet I made with my coworkers," Bob explained sheepishly. "We're plant engineers—we kind of don't get out much. Anyway, for as long as I can remember there's been someone named Vash who comes to check on the plant, and my father says that as long as _he_ can remember there's been someone named Vash who comes to check on the plant, and my grandfather says that _his_ father told him that the person who brought our plant was named Vash, so either you're the youngest looking hundred-year-old I've ever seen or you just pass the name on to the next generation."

Vash was amused, both by the younger man's rationalization of the facts and by the younger man's incredible lung capacity—he had managed to say it all in one breath again.

Bob drew a few deep breaths, then continued. "Jack says that he thinks you're the third Vash, but Karen thinks you're at least the fourth Vash, and _I_ think you go all the way back to the legendary Vash the Stampede, which would make you at _least_ the sixth Vash, so I was wondering—"

Bob's rambling was cut off by a man's voice yelling, "Hey, Vash, get back here!"

Vash turned to see a dark-haired man scoop up a tiny child. "What did I tell you about staying nearby when we're out?" the father chided gently. "It's not safe to go wandering off by yourself, Vash."

"Sorry, Daddy," the little girl mumbled petulantly. Vash gaped: this undeniably female girl shared a name with him? The man ruffled the girl's hair affectionately. "Da-ad!" she complained, obviously embarrassed.

Vash was set to turn away, dismissing it as an embarrassing coincidence, when the dark-haired man locked eyes with him. Silver-gray met blue-green and something strange seemed to dance in the air between them. Vash was confused, but the stranger's expression was one of dawning comprehension.

Vash gasped when he heard the stranger's next words—a name he hadn't heard in over a hundred years.

"Well, Tongari: long time no see," the stranger said with a familiar confident smirk.

"Wolfwood?"


	3. Wolf Pack

**Circle Life**

_by volta arovet  
_

_part two: **Wolf Pack**_

"Well, Tongari: long time no see," the stranger said with a familiar confident smirk.

"Wolfwood?"

The man nodded.

For a moment, the world stopped spinning. Wolfwood was dead, long dead. Vash had seen his corpse—had helped bury it, no less. Even if Wolfwood hadn't died then, the hundred years that had passed since they had parted would surely have taken their toll. All of the humans from that period of time were dead. Still, there was some strange pulling deep inside Vash that told him that the person in front of him was Nicholas D. Wolfwood.

In one swift motion, Vash grabbed Wolfwood in an enormous bear hug. Wolfwood returned the embrace with equal fervor.

"How is this possible?" Vash whispered. There were tears in his eyes. "This can't be real."

"It is. I got another chance at life." He leaned over to whisper in Vash's ear. "And I'm not the only one."

Vash's eyes widened, and his surprise was just what Wolfwood needed to take advantage of the situation. In one fell swoop, Wolfwood twisted Vash around in a headlock. He mercilessly rubbed the top of Vash's head. "Augh! It-ti-ti-ti-ti," Vash yelped. "What is that for?"

"I still owed you one for singing me up for that Quick Draw competition," Wolfwood informed him smugly, letting go of Vash's head. Seeing an opening, Vash reversed their positions and gave Wolfwood the same treatment. "Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow," Wolfwood yelped. "What's that for?"

"I still owed you for buying that run-down motorcycle." Vash grinned and let Wolfwood go, slapping him on the back.

Little Vash turned to Bob and remarked, "Grownups are weird."

"Hm," Bob agreed, utterly confused by what was going on.

"I like the blue coat, very nice," Wolfwood complimented Vash.

"Danke, danke, I like it too," Vash said proudly.

"You looked better in red, but still…" Wolfwood amended. Vash made a face at him.

"I see you're still wearing those black suits," Vash remarked.

"I'm a preacher now. A legitimate one, no less," Wolfwood announced.

The little girl took that moment to start tugging on Wolfwood's sleeve. "Daddy? I'm hungry."

The father bent down to the daughter's level. "I'm sorry, pumpkin. I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine. Vash, this is Vash. He's the person you were named after."

Vash knelt down in the sand, taking her hand and pressing it gently against his lips. "Bonjour, madame. A pleasure to meet you."

"You're weird," she told him matter-of-factly. She frowned suddenly and turned to her father. "Wait a minute—I'm named after a _guy_?"

Wolfwood laughed sheepishly. "Well…a long time ago, I told your mother that when we had children I wanted to name one of the boys 'Vash,' and your mother really liked the name, so, well, you know how your mother gets when she's excited about something. So when you were born, she didn't want to wait until we had a boy to use the name, so we decided to call you Vash."

Both Vashes were satisfied, if amused by the explanation. The little Vash looked at the big Vash in an evaluating way. "I think I can live with that," she approved in a very serious manner. She tugged on Wolfwood's sleeve again. "Daddy? I'm still hungry."

"Okay, pumpkin, let's go home." He turned to Vash. "Would you like to join us for dinner? My wife always makes more than enough."

"Since you asked so nicely…" Vash glanced over his shoulder at Bob, who was still standing awkwardly. "Another time, okay?"

"Um, okay," Bob stuttered as Vash waltzed off with his friend and the child.

The little Vash skipped off ahead of the two adults, occasionally turning around to demand that they hurry up or dinner would get cold.

Wolfwood spoke quietly to Vash. "I meant what I said before, about not being the only one who was brought back. My wife, you, ah, a long time ago she was Millie."

Vash's bright green eyes widened. "Millie! Alive? That's—" He couldn't put into words the mix of emotions that welled up inside him. Surprise—for the opportunity to see an old friend. Joy—that two of his old friends were able to find happiness together. Confusion—because he still couldn't understand how his friends, long dead, could be alive again. Worry—since there had to be a reason that this was happening.

"Jenny—that's her name now, Jennifer—doesn't remember anything about who she was a hundred years ago. She doesn't know who she was, she doesn't know who I was, she won't know who you are, and yet…" Wolfwood trailed off, his eyes distant.

Vash took the moment to study Wolfwood. His hair was a dark brown, not black, Vash noticed with a start, and his eyes were more silver and less blue than they were before. The Romanesque curve of his nose was different somehow, and yet…

"And yet, she's still very much the Millie I knew," Wolfwood sighed.

And yet, the angle of his head, the curve of his smile, the easy stride and easier turn of speech all screamed that the person in front of Vash _must_ be Wolfwood.

"I think I understand," Vash said softly. Wolfwood smiled at him.

"You haven't aged over the years, but you look like you've changed, too. Your smile isn't so strained anymore, even if it does seem a little more sad," Wolfwood observed.

Vash opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as the door to a house opened. A tall woman with long, wild brown hair stepped out of it. Her kind blue eyes took in the three people in front of her while her right hand played with the hair of the young boy currently clinging to her apron. Vash knew even before Wolfwood spoke that this woman had to be Millie.

"Jenny, I'd like to introduce you to my friend Vash. Vash, this is Jenny, my wife." Wolfwood motioned between the two.

"N-nice to meet you," Vash stuttered, grinning from ear to ear.

"Likewise," Jenny chirped. Her face was suddenly very puzzled. "Vash…" she trailed off, deep in thought.

_She recognizes me_, Vash thought to himself. _She's remembering._

"Now we have two Vashes. How are we going to be able to tell them apart?" she mused.

Vash released the breath he didn't know he had been holding. He was disappointed, yet relieved.

"I'm sure we'll manage, my honey," Wolfwood said easily as he breezed past Jenny, pressing a quick kiss to her temple.

Jenny turned to the small child still clutching at her apron. "Brian, could you please set another place at the table?" she asked the child.

Brian mutely nodded his head and scurried away into the kitchen. Vash wondered how the child was going to set the table when he stood a full inch shorter than the tabletop. Little Vash hurried after her brother, announcing that, "If I don't help him you know he's going to drop everything on the floor."

"'m not," Brian was heard protesting quietly.

Somehow, the children managed to set an extra place at the table without breaking anything, although the littler Vash was quick to point out that Brian had almost dropped a plate _twice_ and they really should leave the important jobs to bigger kids like her.

"All right," Jenny said, smiling sweetly as she heaped generous portions onto each of the plates, "from now on, it'll be your responsibility to set the table."

"Great!" the little girl cheered as if it were the greatest treat in the world.

Wolfwood leaned over to Vash and remarked, "I don't know how she does it, but she can always get people to do work and make it seem like a privilege. I don't think she's even aware that she does it."

Jenny sat down and began cutting Brian's food into little pieces. "What are you whispering about, Loopy?"

Wolfwood immediately sat up straight. "Nothing, nothing, my honey," he said quickly.

Vash quirked up an eyebrow. "Loopy?" he asked. Wolfwood opened his mouth to speak, but Jenny beat him to it.

"It started when Steven was about six or so, when for some reason he used to _demand_ that people call him Wolfwood. He also had this cute habit of going outside when the fifth moon was full and howling at it, just like a little wolf cub. His parents gave him the nickname Loopy because it's like the word for wolf, Lupus, only since he was acting silly, they said he was acting 'loopy.' The name stuck. I think it's cute," she giggled. She blinked twice, her bright blue eyes suddenly slightly confused. "I thought you two were old friends. Didn't you know his nickname?"

Vash shook his head, clearly amused. "When we met, we just called him Wolfwood. He must have been holding out on us." He glared at Wolfwood in a mocking fashion. "He still acted loopy, though."

Wolfwood returned the mock-glare, leaned over to Vash, and whispered, "So, is that 60 billion double dollar bounty still good? Even with inflation, that's a good amount of money." Vash's glare became more sour; he still didn't appreciate Wolfwood's joking about his bounty.

"Dad-dy? What are you whispering?" the littler Vash whined. "Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets hurt someone!" She crossed her arms after she finished her chant, satisfied that she had made her point.

"I'm not telling secrets, pumpkin," Wolfwood explained in a patient voice. "I was just telling Mr. Vash about some of my plans to finance the orphanage," he said smoothly.

"Are you going to go out collecting donations tomorrow?" Jenny asked in her usual chipper manner.

"I was thinking about it."

Jenny clapped her hands together. "Oh good! When you go out, why don't you drop off my finished sewing orders at the same time? I'm sure that receiving their new handmade clothing would put them in a more generous mood."

"That's a good idea," Vash complimented as Wolfwood nodded sagely.

A moment later, Wolfwood shook his head in defeat. "She did it again," he mumbled to himself.

"What was that, Loopy?" Jenny asked, her voice entirely void of any guile.

"Nothing, my honey, nothing," Wolfwood replied sweetly.

The dinner passed swiftly in the same cozy manner. The day's modest triumphs—Brian had not cried when he skinned his knee that afternoon, and Wolfwood had received the new architecture designs for the orphanage—seemed like the most important things in the world when presented in that warm, untroubled house. It wasn't until Wolfwood offered to show Vash his church that the two had a moment alone, and the tone turned more serious.

They walked to the church in silence, each simply enjoying the other's company. Wolfwood lit a cigarette and blew a long stream of smoke, tendril winding up towards the stars. Reaching the entranceway, Wolfwood turned about and sat on the steps. Vash followed his lead, neither saying a word to the other, neither taking their gaze away from the stars to look at the other. Wolfwood blew another stream of smoke, which futilely tried to carve a path to the cratered fifth moon.

A strange choking sound caught Vash's ears. He glanced to his left and his breath caught in his throat as he saw tears in Wolfwood's eyes. "Wolfwood…"

"You don't know how happy I am that you're alive," Wolfwood choked out. His hand trembled violently, the glowing red tip of his cigarette quivering up and down in a demonic dance.

"Shouldn't I be the one saying that?" Vash remarked. Wolfwood shook his head.

"All my life I've had these memories. Sometimes I'd wonder if they were real. At times I thought I was mad. Even when I met Millie—Jenny—I couldn't help wondering if I had simply created Millie in my mind, and I had convinced myself that Jenny was this person. She's never shown any sign of remembering what happened one hundred years ago. I thought, if she didn't remember, then maybe _I_ was the one who was mistaken. Maybe I was mad."

Vash placed a hand on Wolfwood's shoulder. The comforting weight was enough to momentarily stop Wolfwood's hand from shaking. Wolfwood continued. "For as long as I can remember, in this life, I've remembered what it was like to die, how painful it was. I remember praying to God for a second chance, a shot at a life that was simple and peaceful, with my friends." He took a long pull on his cigarette, savoring the sensation as the warm smoke filled his lungs and heated his chest. He released it with a sigh. "I think that's what made me come back with my memories, so I would know and appreciate what I had. That, and one other thing…"

He looked at Vash seriously, his hand betraying his nervousness, trembling once again. "I don't know why, but I keep having this image of you, like a photograph. You're wounded, lying on the sand, unarmed, and at someone's—I can't see who—gunpoint. I just remember being frustrated with you for being such an idiot and not realizing that you had a weapon—my cross—beside you. I think I yelled at you to use it. That's the last thing I remember." Wolfwood's voice lowered to a whisper. "I think I was dead when that happened."

Vash's dry mouth opened and closed twice before he said, "That's right. It happened just like that."

Wolfwood closed his eyes and murmured a silent prayer. "I think that was how I made a connection, beyond what's supposed to happen to people after death." Silence reigned for a few moments. "What happened to them?" Wolfwood asked abruptly.

"What?" The question had caught Vash off guard.

"After I died, what happened to the people I left behind? What happened to Millie and Meryl? Or even Knives, Legato, Midvalley, Chapel?"

Vash took a deep breath. "Midvalley fought me first, and ended up killing himself. Legato I fought after, and I, I…" Vash was surprised when I realized how much it still hurt, even after so many years. "I killed him."

Wolfwood tried desperately to show no reaction, but his carefully blank expression betrayed him just as easily. Vash saw Wolfwood's schooled expression, and his own heart fell as well. One of the constants of Wolfwood's time with Vash was Vash's at-times ridiculous aversion to killing. It seemed that soon after Wolfwood died, another part of his world had been buried with him.

Vash continued. "Chapel. I don't know what happened to him. I never actually saw him."

"I doubt he survived," Wolfwood murmured sadly, and brushed a stray tear from his cheek. "Meryl and Millie?"

"They eventually went back to their insurance company. I tried to keep in touch, but it was so difficult. Knives was…he required a lot of care, and by the time he, ah, when he no longer needed my care, so much time had passed. Millie eventually married someone, had five children, I think. She seemed happy. Meryl…" Vash broke off, eyes fixed sadly on the ground. "It was foolish to think she'd wait thirty years for me."

"Vash." Wolfwood took a deep breath, hesitating as if he didn't want to say what he was going to say. "Go to Novembre City. There's someone waiting for you."

Vash's heart caught in his throat. "Who—"

Wolfwood placed a finger over Vash's lips. "If you don't recognize her, then maybe I was mistaken. She's very different than she was before; she grew up under very different conditions, I suspect, but she's still very much…her."

"I see."

"Go tomorrow. I don't know how much longer she'll be there." The finger slid from Vash's lips and rested on his shoulder, the weight strangely reassuring. "And I'll still be here when you get back."

::v_voltaire takes the stage::

Consider this Wolfwood's chapter. Next chapter…well, you'll see. I bet you think you know who'll be introduced next chapter. You're wrong. Then, once you read the chapter, you'll think you know what happened. You're wrong. Just wait for it all to be explained.

I'm sorry that I've been writing so terribly slowly. Summer slump has really gotten to me, but rest assured that Circle Life and one other story are my main focuses now. I'm having a little trouble with the next chapter. It's a long one, and it involves romance. If there are any Trigun fans out there who enjoy (heterosexual, in this case, but there will probably be hints of closer-than-friends and hero-worship in the future amongst the later-introduced characters, so don't be closed-minded to that sort of thing) romance and don't mind beta-reading or offering advice, please email me at v_ and I'll be eternally grateful.

::v_voltaire leaves the stage::


End file.
